


After Hours

by queenhomeslice



Series: That’s it! I’ve come up with a new romance!: Ignis/Reader Stories [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chubby Reader, Curvy Reader, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Maid!Reader, Master/Servant Dynamic, No Romance, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, fat reader, plus size reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25245424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhomeslice/pseuds/queenhomeslice
Summary: You're a maid at the Citadel, secretly pining after the seemingly untouchable Ignis Scientia.
Relationships: Ignis Scientia/Reader
Series: That’s it! I’ve come up with a new romance!: Ignis/Reader Stories [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686343
Comments: 20
Kudos: 91





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thwippersnapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thwippersnapple/gifts).



> A work that's been in progress for a few days for my dearest thwippersnapple! I hope you enjoy, lovely.  
> ___  
> Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Square Enix or any production studios behind the Final Fantasy franchise or Final Fantasy XV; I am not making money from this work and I do not own the rights to FF in any way.

It’s late, nearly nine o’clock at night, when you drag your cleaning cart down long hallway of offices, board rooms, private studies, and spare bedrooms on the 15th floor of the Citadel. The lights are dim, and the rooms are dark, except for one, the only one you haven’t tidied up yet. You slowly approach the office door; inside, you can hear a soft, foreign accent speaking on the phone from within. All the heat within you suddenly rushes to your cheeks—this is the office of Ignis Scientia, the tall, beautiful man who’s in the service of Prince Noctis. The man has you giggling like an innocent schoolgirl every time you see him—although, your thoughts are far from innocent. You’ve been part of the cleaning crew for a few years now, and although you see beautiful people coming and going to and from the palace every day, your mind seems to always wander back to Ignis. You know almost nothing about the man—if he’s married, if he’s even interested in women, if he’s even interested in women who look like you. Yet, none of this makes you any less interested in him; in fact, it only adds to his air of mystery. Willing down the blush in your cheeks, you sigh, and knock lightly. 

“Come in,” you hear the quiet words from the other side of the ornate cedar door, and you turn the handle and push your way inside. The overhead lights of Ignis’ small office are off, only a floor lamp and a desk lamp illuminate the vast rows of bookshelves and piles of papers on his desk. Ignis sits back in his leather chair, cell phone in one hand, other hand full of a sleek silver fountain pen, scribbling in an open notebook. His soft green eyes light up a little once he realizes who you are. You give a short bow as you roll your cart completely inside and shut the door. 

Ignis’ office is small but cozy, with a chaise lounge in front of a fireplace to the right of the door; his desk behind the lounge, with two worn leather armchairs adjacent to it, and floor to ceiling bookshelves along the other three walls. You make short work of sweeping the hardwood floor, choosing to wait on vacuuming the large area rug until he’s off of the phone. You move on to dusting, plucking your feather duster from the cart and making your way across the bookshelves, the sound of his voice lulling you into a quiet world of your own as you clean. 

“My apologies for not speaking to you directly before now,” you hear sometime later when you’re across the room, back turned to Ignis and his desk. 

You’re bent over, dusting the very bottom bookshelf, when his voice makes you jump. You realize that he’s through with his phone call and speaking to _you_ , of all people. You hurriedly stand, smoothing down the ruffles of your maid dress as you drag your eyes up to meet his gaze. You feel frozen, unsure of what to say. Surely you need no respect from someone as noble as _the_ Ignis Scientia. You shake your head furiously. 

“Oh, no, I’m--sorry, I’m the one who interrupted you, um, Mr. Scientia, sir.” You cast your eyes downward, missing as his nostrils flare at the honorific title. “I’ll be out of your way shortly, I promise. Um, would you like me to vacuum, or...?” You flick your eyes back up at him. 

Ignis tilts his head and licks his lips, and you can’t stop staring. Holy hell, the man is a damned marble statue. How is he even real? You can’t wait to get home and rub one out while thinking of him... his chiseled jaw, his tall lean body, his piercing green eyes, his full pink mouth. “I,” he says, voice a little raspier than it was a minute ago, “would like you to continue dusting my bookshelves.” 

You nod and bend back over, methodically working your way along the long, bottom-most shelf. When you’re through, you stand and move on to the next one, working from top to bottom, dusting the books spotless. You think you hear labored breathing coming from the other side of the room, but being too embarrassed to address Ignis again, you continue. 

When you finally reach the shelf that’s next to his desk, you chance a look at the man from your peripheral vision. His hair is swept down across his forehead, and even in the low lamplight, you can see a faint sheen of sweat across his brow and on his neck, around his collarbones. His pinstriped shirt is open at the collar, the top two buttons undone, giving you a tantalizing view of his skin. You can’t help but let your eyes wander down his body—you drag your hungry gaze down his long torso, admiring his slender waist. His long legs are spread wide, and—oh, gods. He’s _hard._ You can see the thick bulge twitching of its own accord between his legs; one of his hands is resting on his upper thigh, the over hovering just above his groin. 

You bite back a noise and turn to continue dusting, feeling your blood rush to your face while jolts of arousal zing south to your core. 

“Do you want to watch me?” 

Oh, that _voice_. That accent, so deep and perfect, curling around his words like silk. You gulp with shaky breaths, then turn towards him. It’s so hard to keep his gaze when your eyes keep wandering down to his crotch, and—oh, _fuck_. He’s opened his fly, pulling out his hard cock, stroking it gently in his hands. It’s hands-down the most beautiful dick you’ve ever seen. Of course Ignis Scientia would have a pretty cock, you wouldn’t expect anything less. It’s thick, and little longer than average size, slightly curved, flushed an angry red from arousal. You can’t stop staring at it as Ignis’ long fingers gently stroke from base to soft velvet head. 

The feather duster is caught in a vice grip in one hand, your other hand nervously fidgeting with the edge of your maid dress. Time seems to drag on forever as Ignis stares you down and strokes himself. The air is charged—anyone else doing this would have you running and reporting them for harassment, but not Ignis. He’s clearly perceptive enough to have seen how you stare at him. As much as you want to get your hands on this gorgeous man, reality comes crashing down, making you remember that you’re _you_ —shy, awkward, fat, not conventionally attractive. And yet, Ignis wouldn’t be doing this if there wasn’t some mutual feeling, right? You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. If you would only _speak_ —but the words get lodged in your throat as soon as you open your mouth and snap it shut again. 

“Do you like this, kitten?” 

The pet name nearly causes you to collapse. All you can do is nod; you’re not even sure if you’re breathing right now. 

“I thought you might,” says Ignis, smirking. “I’ve seen the way you look at me. Cheeky, thinking you can come in here, day after day, dressed in that obscene uniform, bending over while dusting my bookshelves—do you really think I could continue to resist an ass like that?” He’s stroking himself a little faster now, with purpose—his cheeks are becoming more flushed, green eyes glossing over with lust. 

You shake your head, finally mustering up the courage to speak. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t--trying to do anything, I just--” 

“Would you like me to fuck you?” 

You gasp, words seeming to fail you again— “Yes,” you breathe, so quietly that he might not have heard you if he hadn’t been so close. 

“The chaise,” he says, pointing to the chaise lounge in the middle of the room. “On your knees.” 

Fuck, this is like every dream you’ve ever had with him. You let the feather duster fall to the floor beside you, and you mechanically move to the lounge and present yourself as he’s requested. You brace yourself on your elbows, letting your head rest sideways on the velvet cushion, the soft material caressing your cheek and causing you to exhale slowly. You hear movement behind you; your dress is being lifted up around your wide hips, and suddenly, there’s a sharp _slap_ against your ass, causing you to whine like you’re in a porn movie. 

“Oh, little miss demure maid,” says Ignis tightly. “Not so innocent I see.” 

You gasp loudly as there’s a loud _rip_ —and suddenly, the cool air of the office hits the backs of your thighs. Ignis has torn your pantyhose off of your lower half, and he’s now massaging your ass through your white cotton panties. 

“You like this, don’t you,” Ignis growls. “Who would’ve ever guessed a maid to be so dirty? Tell me, do you look at everyone this way?” 

You choke out a whine and shake your head. “No,” you sob into the lounge cushion. “Only you, Mr. Scientia, _fuck_ , I...” 

Ignis tears down your panties and slides two of his long, deft fingers into your dripping pussy from behind, causing you to rock back into his hand, muffled whines escaping your lips. 

“So wet for me, kitten,” he purrs. “You’re going to take my cock so well, aren’t you?” 

Your entire body shivers with the thought and you cry even more. “Yes,” you gasp as he continues to finger you. “Please, please, I... I want it so badly...” 

“Do you go home at night, thinking about me? Do you get off thinking about being impaled on my cock?” He’s pumping his fingers hard now, making you shake and see stars with the consistent assault to your core. “Answer me, maid.” 

“Yes _sir_!” you gasp on a particularly hard push of his fingers. “Fuck, yes! Every...every night...” 

“So naughty,” he murmurs, withdrawing his fingers and massaging your cheeks for a minute before pressing the head of his thick cock to your entrance. “Are you ready for me?” 

You’ve never been more ready for anything in your life. “Yes,” you cry, wiggling your ass against him. 

“So greedy. My own personal cock sleeve.” 

Yes, that’s all you’ve ever wanted to be, you think. 

“Beg for it,” says Ignis. 

“Please,” you gasp out, crying and shaking from the penetration of his fingers. “Please, sir, I need your cock, please...please fuck me!...” 

“Good girl,” Ignis purrs, and _finally,_ he pushes his thick, curved cock into your wet sex and buries himself flush against your ass. “Gods, kitten...you’re so tight around me...let’s loosen you up, shall we?” 

You nod and cry out, wanton moans of pleasure mixed with _Please, sir_ repeatedly. Ignis fucks you like you imagine him doing everything else—methodically, with purpose and perfection, not wasting any time. You feel the drag of his cock as he pumps in and out of you, grinding deep, overwhelming you with pleasure-pain. The hottest thing is his heavy sac slapping you hard as he ruts into you—the sound of your bodies, slick skin against skin, your breathless cries and heavy panting, his own soft grunts of pleasure mixing with yours as he chases his release. It’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Ignis fills you up like you’ve never been filled before—your sex life was practically nonexistent until this very moment. Only his cock matters. 

Ignis shudders into you, leaning low and biting into your shoulder as he comes, hips stuttering and cock pumping his release into you. He slumps down on top of you, breathing hard into your ear. 

“I thoroughly enjoyed that, pet,” he says, biting your earlobe. 

You nod. “Enjoy” is an understatement. 

“I would be delighted if you helped me relieve stress on a regular basis. What do you say?” 

Ignis’ personal slut? What a dream job. “Yes,” you say, voice wrecked from crying out. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it. I want you to use me.” 

“That’s a good girl. Exactly what I wanted to hear.” Ignis lifts himself from your back and tucks himself back into his dress slacks. You feel him take your shoes off and finish ripping your sheer pantyhose all the way off; along with them, he takes your underwear, which are miraculously still intact. He carefully slips your black flats back on and swats your ass again, this time a little more playfully. 

You can feel his spend still leaking out of you, down the backs and insides of your thighs. You shiver as it starts to cool, sticky against your skin. You almost never want to wash it off. 

“I shall dispose of your hosiery,” says Ignis, walking over to your cleaning cart and dumping the torn hose into the garbage can that’s on the cart. He turns to you and stares you down as you get up on shaky knees, smoothing your maid dress down around your crotch, rubbing your thighs together in the absence of your panties. He holds them up, smirking. “I’ll be keeping these. Perhaps I’ll give them back to you tomorrow.” 

You nod, stumbling across the room to your long-forgotten feather duster, feeling his eyes on you as you bend over to pick it up. 

“You look so good like this,” Ignis says, crossing the room. “Perhaps it’ll just be easier for you to not wear anything at all under your uniform, hm?” He raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “How would that suit you?” 

You bite your lip, blushing, looking down. “Whatever...whatever you want, sir.” 

“Good girl. You may go for this evening.” 

You turn, but suddenly Ignis grips your chubby chin between his fingers, causing you to stumble back towards him. He places a hot kiss on your lips, delicate and yet all-consuming. He pulls away, smiling. “I hope you’ll be pleased with our new arrangement.” 

“Yes, sir.” You can’t help but smile back. This really is everything you’ve ever hoped for—to be used by the gorgeous Ignis Scientia. 

You pack up your cleaning cart and exit his office, feeling dirty and satisfied as you continue to clean the Citadel offices, sans both underwear and pantyhose, the smell of sex drying between your thick thighs. 


End file.
